Releases
by aaronlisa
Summary: An AU piece where Hermione is captured during the war: Time became meaningless, it could have been seconds or it could have been months.


**Disclaimer: **_Harry Potter _belongs to JK Rowling and company.

**Prompts:** Written for LJ's 10_orders for prompt #2 (don't cry.)

**Notes:** An AU piece set during the war where Hermione gets captured.

**Word Count:** 1115

* * *

"Don't cry."

His voice is cold, hard and authoritative and she knows that if she doesn't comply with the command that it'll probably be worse for her. Yet she is unable to stop the tears causing him to grab her by the shoulders. For a moment, she trembles in fear as she waits for him to shake her or throw her against the cold stone wall of the dungeon. Instead he sighs in frustration and releases her as quickly as he had grabbed her.

He turns away from her as he rakes his hand through his fine blond hair. His frustration and anger are evident in the way that he walks and the stiffness of her spine and she knows that she is on dangerous ground. At any moment, she expects him to snap and the kindness that he has shown her so far will evaporate.

"You have to stop crying."

She nods in agreement as her cold hands move to wipe the tears that seem to fall endlessly from her eyes. Once again, he sighs in frustration as he thrusts a pure white linen handkerchief in her hands. For a moment, she stares are the small square of cloth that seems to glow in the gloom of the dungeon and she can't help but think of a time when he would never have shown her any kindness not even one as simple as giving her a handkerchief.

As she wipes her eyes and face before blowing her nose, she wonders what has spurred him to act kindly to her. After all she is in the Malfoy dungeons, a prisoner of his great pureblood family while the war rages on outside the stone walls. Her mind tries to find the answers for her never-ending questions but each time she comes up against a blank mental wall. There is no reason for why Draco Malfoy, the pureblood Slytherin prince, is showing her any kindness not when she knows that his side is winning.

Her tears have been dried and she has finally stopped crying much to his visible relief. For a moment, she holds the sodden handkerchief, uncertain what to do before Draco takes charge and casts the _Evanesco_ spell, making it vanish and leaving Hermione uncertain of what to do with her hands. She eventually places them on her lap, primly folded as if she spends all of her time in dank dungeons with her enemy. Draco sighs again and she's not sure if it's from frustration or fatigue.

They sit there in silence, her on the cold and damp stone floor and him on a conjured wooden chair. Neither of them speaks as the minutes drag past and a sense of dread starts to fill Hermione as she worries that perhaps he is waiting for something or someone. She vows not to start crying because she refuses to give into her tormentor so she envisions of all the humiliations that he has experienced.

When he finally speaks again, his voice is distant and cold. The visions of his former humiliations fade and leave her feeling empty for having taking any delight in them.

"He killed my mother."

The _he _of his sentence is never clarified and it doesn't really matter to Hermione. All that matters is that Draco Malfoy has awoken to the reality of the side that he was born on. If she had been someone else, Hermione might have thought of ways to exploit this vulnerability in him but she's not someone else. Instead of exploiting him, she instinctively moves and touches his knee in sympathy. Since the first time that she had awoken and found herself captive in the Malfoy dungeon, Hermione is not afraid.

He pulls her up so that she is standing and he leans forward, clumsily holding her in his arms as he rests his head against her stomach. She awkwardly wraps her arms around his shoulders, whispering soothing and meaningless words as her lands rub circles against him. If he cries, she has no way of knowing for he neither shakes nor makes a sound. All that Draco Malfoy does is clutch at her as if he is drowning and she is only his hope for survival.

Later on, she's never sure how long they stay like that. Time became meaningless, it could have been seconds or it could have been months. When he finally released, Hermione stepped backwards, hesitant at what had transpired between them. She still wasn't sure what to expect from her once former enemy. Perhaps they were still enemies but grief had caused him to behave irrationally.

"Draco," Hermione's voice is a soft whisper.

"Don't. Nothing's changed Granger. We're still on opposite sides and that's the way it's going to stay."

She steps backwards, when he grabs her hand and prevents her from moving any further.

"It's the way that it has to stay. Neither of us can afford to feel anything other than hatred."

"But…"  
"No," Draco cuts her off, his voice firm, cold and authoritative.

Hermione nods in response. She knows that no matter what happens they can't afford to think that the other will not play their parts in the war as they've been scripted. There's a part of her that wishes that things could be different. When he lets go of her hand, he offers a wand with the other.

"It's not your wand but it should do."

"Thank you."  
"Don't thank me; just bring down the bastards who did this."

He turns on his heel and walks out of the dungeon leaving her alone. Part of her wants to wait, to see if it's nothing more than a trap. But she knows that if she wants to escape this dungeon she has to leave now. There's no hesitation as she creeps out of the cell and down the hallway in a different direction that Draco had taken. She doesn't notice that he's watching her from the shadows that he had melted in with the assistance of magic. Nor is she aware of the magic that he casts to allow the wards of the Manor to release her.

Draco stands in the dungeons, frozen in place as his mind wanders. He knows that if anyone finds out that he released Hermione Granger from her cell in the dungeons, he'll wind up as his mother did: cold and dead on the parlour floor. Yet he strangely doesn't care, not with his mother dead because of his father's loyalty to a madman. All he feels is a sense of numbness and hope that once Potter has Granger by his side that he'll be able to turn the tides in the war.

**END**


End file.
